Wren sighs as Annie responds strangely to their guest. Her aggression with her alpha so near her is a sign which he cannot ignore. He reaches out and grabs her by the scruff of the neck. She goes limp immediately and rolls to her side at his feet. 

As the dog settles once more, Wren runs his hand over his chin and eyes, then leans back. “King's mage's apprentice is good enough,” he accepts quietly, careful not to allow his concern to show on his face. There is a tension to this one he would rather not have so near to himself, let alone his farm and his town. Perhaps it is not the guest in particular which the dogs do not like for neither Annie nor Baxter were consistently aggressive. Rather, they seemed to be upsetted by some danger the stranger gave off when he, too, was upset. Therefore, the stranger himself isn't so much an issue as what he can do when bothered himself? 

But then, wouldn't that be a tidy bundle? A mage's apprentice would have magic, which Annie and Baxter both have not had good experience with. Perhaps the mage, when angered or ruffled, lets off some magical charge. Wren would ask Marge regarding this to test his theory. Truthfully, in his own times with those who made magic, he couldn't say any moment was so certain, so clearly cut. No – in fact, to insert magic into any being, to dabble in changing the natural order of things was, as far as he'd seen, a perversion which only spelled disaster, despite what good it might do in the short-term. 

Magic or not, mage or apprentice, the Kirin is in need of aid for a time, if it be only a day or two. Wren accepts the lecture and the way the mage almost speaks down his nose to him with aplomb. It is no different from others much like him. Neither the Kirin nor the half blood status of this one are going to give him any more humility. Magic in and of itself creates a sense of being more than the usual. Generally, Wren finds such personality mannerisms amusing, much like how the Mayor thinks of himself as greater than Mr. Thatcher who is their town's tanner, despite his name. But with the magic being the source, he itches to rid himself of the annoyance. 

“In the morning, then,” he says calmly, keeping his own heartbeat and worry quiet. “I will take you to the fishing pond which the children visit. But first you must rest. If you would care to, there is a bed?” He stood then, large and dark with the fire back lighting his heavy form. Gesturing toward the opposite side of the cabin to where a small cut in the wall reveals an alcove through which there are two doors, “there is a bedroom with a made bed and quiet, well suited for healing. I will get heating stones and warm the blankets for you.”